Pack Mentality
by Libek
Summary: A bit dark. There are fewer Assassins than any other servant Nobody; Roxas discovers why.


His Samurai noticed it before he did. They were in the midst of a routine report, chronicling the day's events, a list composed of things that each attendant had noticed and considered most worth mentioning. Most interesting to him.

The new Assassin was at the very end of the list, the last thing announced, and even then hesitantly, as though to think it might concern him was a terrible presumption. _And--_ The Samurai paused. _And then there is also the matter of the Flurry of Dancing Flames, and his latest servant_.

Roxas was at first a bit confused. Axel's affairs were always of peripheral interest, but the Samurai might as well have gone out of its way to announce that tomorrow it would rain again. He'd had at least one new Samurai every week, sometimes as many as three or four. While always vaguely satisfying, it was no longer an event to be circled on the calendar. And Axel had been alive for -- he wasn't quite sure how long, but it wouldn't exactly be a _novel_ experience for him, either. Just another Assassin in the crowd...

But even as he thought it, Roxas began to frown. There _wasn't_ a crowd of Assassin Nobodies. Only forty, maybe forty-five all together. He had half that many Samurai already.

Why hadn't Axel accumulated more attendants in the last howevermany years?

One of the Samurai ventured, _The Sorcerers do not like to speak of it_. They had already thought to ask, then. Although...

"What did Axel say about it?" Roxas was fairly certain he already knew the answer. No one else's attendants had ever spoken to him. He wasn't even sure they _could_.

His Samurai did not balk, did not blink, but lowered their heads in dutiful unison. The one nearest ventured, _We did not ask. Were we mistaken?_

Roxas gazed into its six darkened eyes and then rose from the small white couch that was very nearly the only furnishing in his chambers. "No," he said. "I'll do it myself."

*

He found the lanky redhead outside, sitting on the steps of one of many staircases and gazing out into the nothingness. His bright green eyes were unfocused, but Roxas mimicked the tilt of his head and found a small group of Assassins circling lazily in the air above them.

"Hi there," Axel said after a beat, not looking at him.

Roxas ignored the greeting, and sat down on the stairs nearby -- not too close to him, but not too far away, either. A good distance for conversation. "You have a new one," he prompted.

"Oh?"

Just as though he had no idea what Roxas was talking about. Aggravating. There were even theatrically-lifted eyebrows and ridiculously wide, seemingly-guileless eyes. Roxas waited impatiently for him to get over himself.

Axel did it not an instant too soon. "_Oh_," he said. "You mean him." He twisted his neck around, towards a lone Assassin settled neatly on the rooftop of the spire opposite. "Seems like."

A full minute passed before Roxas realized that the conversation was over. He scowled, very faintly, and edged closer to Axel, trying again. "Well, isn't that a good thing? It evens the odds a little, doesn't it?"

"The odds, huh?" Axel chuckled, and shook his head. "You've been spending time with Luxord. It's not always about the numbers."

Cryptic. And he had been shot down again. Roxas snorted a little and stood to leave. Fine. His interest only went so far. "Still," he said carelessly over his shoulder. "One more can't hurt."

"Mmm. We'll see."

It was really just more of the same -- dull and distant and oddly noncommittal. There was nothing new in Axel's tone, not really. But still something made Roxas slow, and turn his gaze to the sky one last time before he went inside.

He blinked.

Strange. The new Assassin was the only one not in the air above them. And, at second glance, the fifteen or so others really appeared to be circling _it_, with a slow intensity that was slightly unsettling.

_Lazy_ had been the wrong word, Roxas decided. This...was almost predatory. He'd never seen anything like it from the Assassins before. He didn't like it, whatever it was, and started to say as much but came up short, startled, when he looked at Axel and found some of the same unnerving fixation in bright green eyes.

*

The next day, the new Assassin was gone.

*

Roxas had never hesitated to ask a question before. It wasn't in his _nature_, as he had come to know it. The other seniors had called him blunt, or sometimes irreverent, which, from what he could tell, meant that he said whatever he liked, and wasn't all that _delicate_ or _respectful_ about it. Besides, Xemnas had never seemed to care, so Roxas hadn't either.

He didn't like that he was hesitating now. Not with Axel. That was stupid. The redhead was slippery, yes. He didn't exactly inspire a lot of trust, true. And then there was that obnoxious _way_ he had of sliding up beside Roxas out of nowhere and getting an arm around his shoulder _right under his guard_ -- and that even more obnoxious way of laughing off the bruises it earned him and _doing it again anyway_...

But most of the time, being around him still made Roxas feel...comfortable.

There wasn't a lot of _comfortable_ in Never Was.

And this hesitation, this question, was filling up the space between them, making his skin itch whenever he looked at Axel. Stealing the _comfortable_ away from him.

So later that day he followed the redhead to the library -- or the Athenaeum of Futile Seeking, whatever Xemnas liked to pretend it was called -- and stopped hesitating.

"Where is he?"

Slowly, Axel looked up from the book he was reading, and his face had that rare utter lack of expression. As though they were total strangers and not the _best friends_ he normally liked to claim at all. "Where is who?"

It made the itch worse. Roxas would stare him down if he had to. "You _know_ who. Where is he?"

A faint smile cracked the expressionless mask. Or maybe it was the other way around. Axel closed the book and set it aside, folding his hands neatly in his lap. "You really want to know?"

Roxas scowled. "I wouldn't keep _asking_--"

"Fine." The smile widened ever so slightly. "Yours are like...an army, right? Little tin soldiers. Rank and file, all -- neat and orderly." Axel made an impatient gesture. "And you're their general, leading them into battle. Am I right?"

Something in his tone -- or maybe the dismissive wave of his hand -- set his teeth on edge. Axel had intended it to. This was supposed to distract him. Roxas took a deep breath and focused. The metaphor was suitable enough, there were plenty of books in here about armies and wars waged on many different worlds, and the Samurai _were_ like good soldiers. He _was_ like their general. It worked. He nodded, tight, and observed, "It's not like that for you."

The way Axel choked off his laughter was very nearly enough to make Roxas reconsider. Maybe the redhead would get to his point quicker with a few more bruises. "No. Not really. The Assassins are more like..." He settled back into the plush armchair, almost sank into its musty cushions. "A _pack_."

_Pack_. Roxas mouthed the word, a bit uncertain. He didn't think he'd heard it before. No -- no, wait. Luxord said it sometimes, describing his cards. A group, then, of similar things? It was less helpful, less viscerally familiar, than _army_.

"You don't know what a pack is," Axel said, blinking a little. He sat up a little straighter, nodded to himself thoughtfully. "Okay. Remember Pangaea?"

A barren rock of a world, hot as a sauna, and filled with hulking scaled monsters. It hadn't been his favorite world, but he remembered. "Of course I do."

"And the 'raptors?"

Roxas didn't answer right away. There had been a lot of different monster types, all with impossible names, but one kind had attacked them, a coordinated assault. Lean, sinewy creatures that moved like large, featherless birds with these powerful hind legs, and that one wicked curved claw on each foot... Axel had called them 'raptors then, too.

They'd killed so many that he was almost surprised he hadn't remembered faster. But only almost. They had killed a lot of things together.

"Yes," he said.

Axel spread his hands, looking very satisfied. "_They_ were a pack."

Then he had been right. A group of similar things. Although Roxas still had no idea how this related to the Assassins. Except-- His eyes widened, and he fixed them on the redhead disbelievingly. He looked so composed, but the _expression_ on his face, and that smugness like he knew exactly what Roxas was thinking...

"Axel." He'd say it anyway. Just -- to be sure. "I remember something else, too. During that last battle, when we had killed off most of them, they banded together with another, smaller pack or something. Brought in reinforcements." Roxas licked his lips. "But..."

"But it didn't always work out," Axel cut in smoothly. "The pack dynamic was fragile. The new recruits didn't really belong. And sometimes, they just didn't -- _mesh_." He almost seemed to be relishing the words. "And when a new 'raptor didn't work out, for whatever reason..."

Roxas said nothing.

The redhead's smile slipped away almost completely. "It's every man for himself, Roxas," he said softly. "_Kin_, family, _loyalty_ -- in the end, they're just words. If one member threatens the group, the others take care of it. That's _life_." Axel tilted his head to one side, a lazy smirk touching his wide mouth. "Got it _memorized_?"

*

Two months later, another Samurai reached the end of its report and, less hesitantly, mentioned that Axel had a new Assassin, bringing the tally up to forty-six.

"Mmm." Roxas didn't bother looking up. "We'll see," he said quietly. "We'll see."


End file.
